Dugwald had always hated the phrase “strictly forbidden.” When he was growing up, his mother would warn him that he was “strictly forbidden” from playing in Widow Yoara’s garden, and thus it had become his preferred spot to sneak off to. In his school years, his teachers had “strictly forbidden” him from running off during lessons, and thus truancy had become his favorite pastime. When he had expressed an interest in joining the King’s army, his family had “strictly forbidden” him to go, and thus Dugwald had just ended his ten years of service. A tour of service, he reflected, that was marred by disciplinary actions for insubordination.

The army, it seemed, had many things that were “strictly forbidden.”

All his life, that phrase had hounded him. He had hoped that adulthood would have brought with it a certain degree of salvation from that phrase and from the limiting implications it held, but every new turn his life took brought new restrictions. And each new restriction brought Dugwald to new places he was “strictly forbidden” to go and new things he was “strictly forbidden” to do.

And that, of course, was what put Dugwald on the path to the Cave.

Once Dugwald had finally been released from the King’s army, he had decided to settle down in the small village of Hydin. It was an idyllic little town near the foot of the mountains. Surrounded by a thin and largely tamed forest on three sides, Hydin was in a remote corner of the kingdom that had neither strategic value nor excess or stockpiled resources. Dugwald had heard of the place from a friend of his in the army who had been born there. It sounded like the perfect place to settle down and live his life as he saw fit.

The problem, though, was the Cave.

The people of Hydin were friendly, and while they were somewhat distrustful of Dugwald at first, they warmed to him on the recommendation of the hometown boy he had befriended in service. Dugwald built himself a small house, volunteered for the town watch during the undesired long hours of the morning, and was, for the most part, left alone. The only problem, and it was not a small one, was when they warned him to stay away from the Cave that was a short distance from the village.

No, Dugwald thought. They did not warn him. They told him that entering the Cave was “strictly forbidden.”

So, here he was. The mouth of the Cave was just ahead, and it looked unassuming enough. It had been less than half a day’s walk through the woods, and while there was no worn path there, the trees and the underbrush were thin enough that the trek was easy. The woods came to an abrupt end a short distance from the mountainside and the entrance to the Cave. The day was clear and bright, and in the midday sun, the entire area, including the darkened cave entrance, looked remarkably pleasant.

Dugwald took a deep breath to prepare himself. There was something in that cave. There had to be. There would be no reason for an entire town to “strictly forbid” entrance into an empty cave. Dugwald’s imagination danced with visions of hoarded treasure. While he was neither a greedy nor an ambitious man, that would be a fine prize to find, and he had brought along a shovel just in case the Cave was home to buried riches.

Of course, there were other options. Perhaps the Cave was home to some mysterious monster that had been cleverly trapped in there long ago. Dugwald was neither heroic nor glory-starved, but killing an obscure beast would be something, and he had brought his sword along, as well. He had tried, as best he could on what little information he had, to prepare himself for any contingency the Cave might throw at him.

And yet, now that he was here and staring at the entrance, he found himself hesitating. His proclivity to going places that were “strictly forbidden” had caused Dugwald to live an interesting life, but it had not always been a safe one. He had nearly died more than once in the King’s army from disobeying orders, and even his childhood had proven dangerous at times because of it. There were some places, he had found, that were “strictly forbidden” for perfectly good reasons.

But Dugwald had to know.

He was moving almost before he realized it. With his shovel strapped across his back, his pack hanging at his hip, and his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt, Dugwald walked confidently toward the entrance of the Cave. He paused just outside, a sudden chill running down his spine. He licked his index finger and held it up, but there was no breeze. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The moment he stepped through the Cave’s entrance, it was like stepping across the threshold into another world. Most caves Dugwald had been in were significantly cooler than the air outside. This one, however, was warmer, but not hot like a volcanic cave might have been. It was, in fact, a perfectly pleasant temperature, which worried Dugwald all the more. Very few places that were “strictly forbidden,” in his experience, could be described as pleasant.

Dugwald had taken perhaps two dozen steps in when he stopped dead in his tracks. He realized, chillingly, that he had forgotten to bring a torch to light the Cave. This, in and of itself, was not disturbing. What did disturb Dugwald was the fact that he had suddenly realized that a torch was not necessary. The Cave was already lit.

At that moment, Dugwald very nearly turned around and ran back to Hydin. There was something seriously wrong here, something that Dugwald was not equipped to handle. And yet, he had no answers. If he went back to his house now, he would never know why the Cave was so “strictly forbidden.” He had suspicions, and now a few more facts, but he would always wonder. And there was no reason to leave now and speculate from a distance about what was just around the corner in front of him.

Just ahead, the tunnel of the Cave’s entrance opened up and the Cave seemed to turn to the right. Dugwald’s heart was beating with increasing rapidity with each step he took closer to that turn. His hand gripped tighter around the hilt of his sword, and despite the pleasant temperature in the Cave, sweat started forming on his hands and his brow. He paused once again just before turning that corner, biting his bottom lip and resisting the urge to close his eyes. Then he took a step.

“Hello,” a soft, high voice said to him.

Dugwald knew something would be in the Cave. He knew that it wouldn’t be “strictly forbidden” if it were a normal cave. He knew that it felt different, and strange, and that something was off about it. He knew from the eerie, sourceless light in the Cave that something magical was going on. But had Dugwald taken a hundred different guesses, he never would have named what he saw in front of him now.

Standing calmly just a few feet in front of Dugwald was a little girl. She could not have been more than eight or ten years old. Her hair was a light shade of brown and was tied up in pigtails on either side of her head. She wore a plain blue play dress that, despite the fact that she was alone in a cave, was spotless and pristine. She had her hands loosely clasped behind her back, and was swaying her shoulders back and forth slightly as she stared up at him.

“What…what are you doing here?” Dugwald managed.

The little girl cocked her head to one side. “I live here.”

When the girl offered no further explanation, Dugwald started to look around the cave. There was little there of note. There was no bed, no dresser, nothing that would suggest a usual living space. There was not even a simple bedroll or a pile of straw to sleep on. There were no furnishings, not even a table, nor was there anything resembling a larder for the girl’s food. The floor and the walls were bare, apart from a small section of wall directly behind where she was standing, which was covered in strange markings drawn in something like white chalk.

“What’s your name?” Dugwald asked. Maybe she was the daughter of someone from the village.

The little girl’s brow furrowed at the question. Her eyes moved away from Dugwald’s and down toward the floor, as if in thought. “Name?” She asked. “Name,” she repeated after a long moment. Then her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, yes. Names. I remember those.”

“Oh,” Dugwald said. “Well, look. It probably isn’t safe to be playing in here. If you want, I can take you back to the village.”

“What village?”

“Uh, Hydin,” Dugwald said, scratching the back of his head. “Isn’t that where you’re from?”

“No.”

“Then, how did you get here?”

The girl regarded him for a long moment, and although Dugwald could not be certain, he thought her smile faded just slightly. “Why did you come here?” She asked him instead.

“Oh, I just wanted to see what was in the Cave. The others in the town said it was strictly forbidden.”

“Did they?” The girl asked, then paused. After a moment, she laughed. “I suppose that is why I have gotten so few visitors here.”

“What do you mean? How long have you been here?”

The little girl shrugged. “I never understood the habit of dividing up time into small increments, only to then count them up again.”

Dugwald felt himself grow pale. “I think I should be going,” he said suddenly.

Without waiting for a reply, Dugwald turned around and started for the entrance to the Cave. He had only made it three steps before the girl spoke again. “Are you a Child of the Spark?”

Dugwald glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I thought not,” the girl said. “But it is harder to tell these days.”

“Sure,” Dugwald said, continuing toward the outside.

“Pity, though,” the girl said. She had not moved, but her voice seemed to follow him on his way out. “Pity that you will never see beyond.” Dugwald froze, and then cautiously turned around. He could not see her anymore, as he had rounded the corner, but somehow he felt like she was still watching him. “Pity that everything beyond is, to your kind, strictly forbidden.”

Dugwald’s eye twitched. There was that phrase again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The girl didn’t answer. Without really thinking about it, Dugwald walked back into the larger cave and found the girl still standing there, in precisely the same spot, in precisely the same position. Only once he had come into view again did the girl continue.

“There are worlds beyond this one. Enough for an eternity. And there are those who are allowed to reach them, Children of the Spark. Inheritors of deep magic. Usurpers of privileged power. They alone are allowed to explore. They alone are allowed to journey beyond the cells of their world. They alone are allowed to walk the planes.”

Dugwald was about to say something, but the moment he opened his mouth, the girl spoke again, interrupting him.

“To all others, they are strictly forbidden.”

Dugwald closed his eyes. His mind was reeling. Who was this girl, and could there possibly be any truth in the strange words she was speaking? But if what she said was true, if there were other worlds beyond this one, why should they be denied to him? Why shouldn’t he travel them? Why should he be forbidden?

“I could give you the key,” the girl said suddenly. “I could give you a way into those other worlds.”

Dugwald felt his muscles tighten. There was danger here. This girl, quite clearly, was not what she appeared to be, but, if she could give what she said…

“What I am offering has never been offered before. The Children of the Spark, now, are born into this fate, and many of them squander it. It is not a gift that can be easily given. The Forces of Being forbid it. Strictly.”

“Do it,” Dugwald said instantly. “Nobody keeps me out!”

“Indeed not,” the girl said, still smiling. She pulled her hands out from behind her back, held them out almost casually at her side, and closed her eyes. After a moment, her hands began crackling. It started as a noise, the air within the Cave popping with energy. Shortly after, flashes of lightning began to appear from and around her hands. A moment later, they became more than flashes. Strange helixes of electricity began spinning downward from her fingers and halfway up her arms. Finally, her eyes shot open and Dugwald stared, transfixed. They were no longer eyes at all, but rather panoramas of endless skies choked with lightning.

Then the girl’s hands shot forward, and the helixes leapt directly into Dugwald’s chest. He screamed in pain, his arms flying backwards and convulsing. Time lost all meaning as the agony coursed through his body like blood. Eventually, terrified that the torment would never end, Dugwald forced his eyes open and locked gazes with the girl. The moment he did, two streams of lightning shot from her eyes and into his. Dugwald’s head snapped back, and the pain, which Dugwald had thought could not have been more excruciating, redoubled.

Then, suddenly, Dugwald vanished from the Cave, sent kicking and screaming into the Blind Eternities.

The sparks around the girl’s hands and the storm in her eyes died down shortly after the man had disappeared from the plane. She stared for a while at the spot where he had stood and considered him. He was weak, she knew. She had sensed it instantly, and felt it when she had given him the Spark. She had not given him much power; too much would have destroyed him. And his dying would serve no purpose. Not yet, at least.

She clasped her hands behind her back again and walked to the Cave’s entrance, stopping short of the threshold. She, even she, could not move beyond it. The hands, the many hands, that had built the locks to this cell had done their work with remarkable diligence. But all locks could be picked, even if their pieces were spread across the planes. Planes that she was strictly forbidden to ‘walk to. No, she couldn’t ‘walk anywhere. Not yet, at least.

Calmly and unhurriedly, she turned around and walked deeper into the Cave, heading toward the far wall. She carefully looked over the symbols drawn there, drawn by her own hand and her own purpose. Then she reached out to the wall with one finger, which sparked as she added a single, tiny line to one of the symbols. Then she stood back and studied it again. It likely would not matter. He was likely too weak to do what needed to be done. There was no way to know. Not yet, at least.

But soon, perhaps. For as little as time and its various increments meant, soon. The girl turned around and, with stormy eyes unblinking, waited.

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